QUILLSH
by Gallifreyan Annihilator
Summary: Six teens, scattered around the globe, are all searching for something, a name or a face trapped in the back of their minds. Some lead back to others, intertwined like a magnificent story rug. Others just run in place, unable to move forward. All of them have one thing in common. Quillsh. Reincarnation AU. Told in drabble format. Genfic.
1. Chapter 1

QUILLSH Summary: Six teens, scattered around the globe, are all searching for something, a name or a face trapped in the back of their minds. Some lead back to others, intertwined like a magnificent story rug. Others just run in place, unable to move forward. All of them have one thing in common. Quillsh. Reincarnation AU. Told in drabble format.

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GA: I don't own _Death Note_, simply the concept of _QUILLSH._

This is going to take a long time to write! Sorry to say that each chapter is going to be very short, probably only four drabbles each, and each drabble will have maybe one hundred or so words at the most. Maybe I'll lengthen them later on, but for now it's going to stay nice and drabble-y. Hopefully, though, you'll like it anyways.

For right now, there are no pairings, but I'm going to wait to see where this fic leads me, and see if you, my readers, want to see anything in particular.

Enjoy!

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**CHAPTER 1**

They're inseparable, which scares more people than is strictly healthy for a pair of teenagers living in the Bible Belt. A and B, Another and Beyond, whose names aren't their own but theirs from another time. That's what their foster father tells them, at least, but Roger was never one to tell the truth, anyways.

Or so they think.

* * *

Nobody calls her Linda. Her name is Ellen Calder, after all. But the name sounds wrong, dirty rolling off of her tongue, so she asks them to call her Linda. Nobody does, but it is worth a shot.

Maybe she'll find somebody to call her that someday. Until then, though, she paints, vibrant letters against dark background. An N here, an M there, the occasional L floating in the midst of red Ks. Once in a while, names appear out of the random splatters and letters.

She's never known anybody named Nate River.

* * *

Russia is a heartless place, Mihael decides, and he wonders why he didn't realize it before. Freezing cold in the dead of winter, and no living soul willing to keep an orphan company. The only thing close to hope he has is the bitter resentment towards life, that thing that screwed him over since the very beginning.

With a sigh, he huddles against a gate that protects him from the cold, or at least a small portion of it, and tries to trick sleep into visiting him. Still his attempts are in vain; in a dark, cloud-covered urban wasteland, a single ray of insensitive light shines on Mihael's weary figure. There would be no sleep that night.

* * *

Mail can't sleep, or if he can, does not succumb to the dark dreams. They're too vivid, the nightmares that plague every sleeping moment. He dreams of car chases and bullets and Kira and Mello, God he has to save Mello, or else he'd-

He forgets them the moment he wakes up, but the fear that clenches his heart is the same. The familiar scene of the large room, cots lining the walls, returns to him, and he is glad that all the other orphans are still asleep. All, save for one, and it is Nate's grey eyes that pierce the darkness and Mail's chest and makes him remember for a single moment that he was scared of something that had already passed.

Then, seconds later, all is once again forgotten.

* * *

_"I was once a caretaker for a very gifted group for children, but...it is suffice to say that they are no longer under my care."_

_"What happened, Mr. Wammy? What happened to these kids of yours?"_

_"They simply grew up too fast."_

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That's it for chapter 1, I hope it makes you excited for more, but I can't blame you if it doesn't. Either way, the chapters are short, so it shouldn't take me long for the next one, even though I'm also working on Chapter 5 of _To Be Close to the Sky_. If you like KHR! OC fics, then you might want to check it out. Other than that, there's not much to say, other than-

'Til then!

~G. Annihilator


	2. Chapter 2

GA: Oh wow, I'm really glad you guys liked the first chapter, and I'm glad to say that I've fleshed out the plot a bit more than what I had originally, which is partially the reason why this chapter is kind of late (the other reason is that prom is coming up, and I have stuff to do for graduation and just overall business). This chapter is still kind of a warm-up to the real deal, but it'll get things moving at least :)

Enjoy!

**VERY IMPORTANT:** I really should have said this before in the first chapter, but people may have...dubious thoughts about my ideas for A, namely his gender. Here's the lowdown: A has Klinefelter Syndrome, in which his sex chromosomes are XXY. A _moderately severe_ case of Klinefelter Syndrome. In other words, while A is biologically male, he has extremely feminine features, including bone structure, muscle density and, yes, excessive breast tissue growth. And, having grown up with it without testosterone treatment (which is how the symptoms are usually contained), he has become accustomed to being mistaken for a woman, so doesn't particularly mind when people sue female pronouns for him. After all, genii don't get hung up on the small details.

Besides that, there's really nothing else to be said. I'll see you at the bottom.

Enjoy!

**Something not-so-important:** So I chose November 23 as the starting date for QUILLSH because A) I needed something close to Winter because of Big Plot Reasons, B) I wanted to start the story off in the middle of a school holiday so I don't have to deal with the school stuff, and C) it was close enough to my birthday without it actually being my birthday. So I decided to check out what happened on that day in Death Note and apparently it's the day that Light picked up the Death Note for the first time! Coincidence? I think not!

Actually it is a coincidence, but I guess the date got stuck in my mind or something.

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CHAPTER 2

The problems begin with B. It's the twenty-third of November, A remembers later with definite clarity, and there's no school that week as Thanksgiving becomes a priority in many households. There's nothing out of the ordinary that morning, but Another is surprised when Beyond isn't in his room when A checks on him. It's eight o'clock, the sun is just rising, and B is nowhere to be found.

That in itself is not unusual, but a feeling of unease nips at A, and he steps back into the threshold, heterochromatic eyes darting around the room as his mind sifts out the unnecessary details. Lamp, desk, bed, bible, chair..._bible_.

He shakes his head and refuses to take a closer look, dismissing it as nothing but a trick of the light; or maybe Roger is right, and he needs to get his eyes checked. Either way, he tucks the details into the far recesses of his mind and makes no further attempt to find the missing B, who will undoubtedly show up when his stomach begins to call for home.

Nor does he question the red stain covering _King James'_.

* * *

Linda's parents surprise her with a new easel, and it's with a squeal that she begins to set it up in her room, replacing old wood with new metal. Her old one has been getting too rickety lately, she decides as she folds it up and places it gently in a corner, making sure that the paint adorning the simple structure doesn't chip off.

She pauses for all of five seconds when her eyes linger on an Olde English - _Black Cloister_, she thinks, _but why would she know this?_ - L, before returning to her newer equipment. It's shiny and brand new, but it needs more, something a little Linda.

She gets to work painting up and down the easel itself, fine lines and thick strokes blending together. It's mindless work, and she finds herself paying no attention to her actions as the paint glides across the metal. It's twenty minutes later that she wishes she did, for when she examines her work, she sees a Black Cloister L, a pure white letter laying on black and red. It sets get on edge, but she doesn't leave any time to wonder why.

Linda has never started over on a work of art before, but there's a first time for everything, she decides as white letters scattered across the easel are covered in black.

* * *

Mihael stumbles into the doorway of a large building, not quite caring enough to read the sign out in the front. All he knows is that there are rows and rows of benches, wonderful benches that don't reek of dog shit and trash, and he hobbles over to one before laying down unceremoniously on its wooden surface.

He closes his eyes, but they open once more when a shadow passes over him. It is a man dressed in white, with small eyes and a grimace. Mihael is ready to bolt, but a hand on his shoulder and the smell of warm chocolate makes him freeze, and suddenly he is bombarded by questions.

He is asked about his family. He is asked about his life. He is asked many things, most of which have no answer. Still, he tries his best to answer, still able to smell the chocolate and tempted by his nose. Finally, he is asked his name.

A feeling of conflict runs through him, the need to trust this man overridden by the touch of something else that he can't describe. Something that tells him not to say it, say anything but that. Finally,

"Mello."

The man in white simply smiles softly, and says nothing more. It's all Mihael...no, it's all Mello needs.

* * *

"I have them too," Nate says simply, and Mail wonders if he heard the quiet boy correctly, or if he spoke at all. "Nightmares." The two are seated at their usual breakfast table, Nate with his toy robot, his sole possession, and Mail with the dog that he and the others have been keeping a secret from the Matron. It's barely a pup, smaller than the cramped broom closet that they hide it in, with a trapped door to let it see the outside world. The black and white spotted dog, as sad as it is to say, has much more freedom than those who take care of it.

Mail shouldn't be surprised by the comment; after all, every child at St. Agnes' has a backstory worth crying over. Nate can't be much different, but there's something that bugs the redhead about the statement. It's as though he knows, as though he feels the same things and goes through the same pain.

That's impossible, though, and Mail simply shrugs before returning his attention to the pup. "We all do," is his final comment on the matter, but the usually silent Nate doesn't seem to be finished with the conversation. It takes him a moment to turn his thoughts into words, but he sends them into the air, and lets them linger there, sitting until Mail finally leaves the room, confused and angry and all sorts of in-between.

"Matt...I'm scared."

* * *

_"I trained them to be people that they weren't, it's as simple as that."_

_"But you made their lives even _more_ than that. It wasn't about L, Mr. Wammy. It was about the kids. It was always about the kids."_

_"That may be so, but do you see what it made them? It broke them, you know. You've seen them yourself."_

_"I've seen them, yes, but...maybe it's harder to break them than you think."_

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GA: YOOOOOO. The plot's picking up! Will B turn psycho? Is Linda going crazy? What's with the mysterious man in white? And why did Nate call Mail _Matt_? Is the author even for real with these rhetorical questions?

Ha, I'm just kidding. But those are some questions to keep in mind as I get the next chapter typed up. Graduation is around the corner, so I'm guessing maybe two weeks until the next update?

'Til then!


End file.
